• How far will this film travel? Not sure. No one ever is. It is, however, a very interesting take worth the big screen, if not in the theatre, then ideally in the comfort of home since Netflix or Amazon very much allow such options.

  • This film is breezy with light romance, and slight humour for the most part, and the lead actors, perfectly paired, add a touch of both. This is what teenagers packing into the theatres seem to have been drawn to. Beyond this, the film seems strictly okay

  • This rotund, pot-bellied, subtly expressive Aamir brings the same earnestness to this film as he does to potboilers like ‘Dhoom 3’ or ‘Ghajini’.
    He is, as he’s been appearing during Christmas for more than a few years now, the annual Santa Claus spreading cheer among Indian audiences, enticing you to enjoy a fine bout at the dangal, this time, and a wholly enjoyable ride in the theatre, yet again. Don’t think I need to say more. You won’t miss this anyway.

  • ‘Befikre’ is fun watch, even though it is a bit fuzzy. There is much brightness on the screen, and breeziness in the air. Many might find the film rather fickle. But, that’s just the movie trying to reflect the lives all around us

  • A thriller set in a sleepy town called Chandannagar, off Kolkata—effectively capturing the Bong milieu; art-directed, and shot like a slightly dystopian dream. A mystery that unravels by the minute, without a moment to pause for breath, much less blink, which is saying a whole lot for a movie that’s still 2 hours plus.

  • The theme is totally relevant. The perspective, since female, is relatively unique. Alia plays a ‘filmmaker type’ herself, doing the serious grunt work — something we hardly acknowledge about women (or men) in showbiz. This is true for the director (Gauri Shinde) of this movie, of course. There is a touch of semi-autobiography in there.

  • Forget good, there is hardly any music in most of Rock On!! 2. Save in the many flashbacks and in the needlessly protracted climax. The songs and melodies, instead of being well knit in the narrative, seem to stand jarringly outside of it. There is a wisp of a story, narrated in large chunks through that easy, lazy device — a run-of-the-mill voiceover.

  • Why do we talk in terms of first-half, second-half? Because this is a Hindi movie — the best of which dip after the interval. You step back into the theatre, and realise, woah, this is one of those rare Bollywood movies that needn’t have existed after the interval at all. Absolutely nothing happens. Besides Devgn, who we know is happening anyway. So you sit back and enjoy Shivaay. Just please don’t ask why!

  • This film remains so remarkably restrained throughout, drawing hardly any attention at all to the big moments — through the background score (which is laidback, slightly calypso), or creating a sense of occasion (most scenes are tonally the same) — that by the end of it, you genuinely wonder if this was a sports movie in the first place.

  • They narrate the classic underdog script of how passion and ‘zid’ (or perseverance) can take you places. But, that’s not all.

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